


Flowers of One Kind (and Another)

by LadyAmalthea



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Florist AU, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Marijuana, Not Beta Read, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Drugs, Porn with Feelings, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Lubrication, Wire Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:42:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24774832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAmalthea/pseuds/LadyAmalthea
Summary: Hank still has some problems he is working through, but having Connor's support helps. One day, his beloved deviant boyfriend suggests trying something new to help keep him away from alcohol, and Hank thinks that maybe it's a change for the better
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 8
Kudos: 101





	Flowers of One Kind (and Another)

**Author's Note:**

> *** This fic contains sex while on drugs! If that isn't your thing, turn back now.
> 
> I wanted to fill a very niche desire to see some Hank smoking marijuana to help with his mental health and alcohol problems. This partially stems from my own experience using it for several years... but also includes some fucking because who doesn't love that?
> 
> <3 Dedicated to Mo and Rile

Sure, things were better now with Connor. Hank found himself enjoying peaceful mornings with his boyfriend and dog, just before opening the shop each day. In the summer, sunlight would stream into the bedroom early in the morning, and even though it woke Hank up, that was fine by him. More time to look across the bed and remember how lucky he is. How lucky it was that of all the places Connor could have ended up when he was freshly deviated, panicking, and running for his life, he ended up crashing through the window of Hank’s little flower shop at the edge of the city.

Some nights, he still resorted to the bottle, though

He hated the way Connor would look at him with painful sympathy when he would get home from volunteering at Jericho. Hank would apologize profusely, knowing the only way he was going to get to bed let alone reach the bathroom before he needed to puke, was with Connor's help. 

Connor took it in stride every night, nursing Hank softly until he fell asleep, and waking him with painkillers and freshly scrambled eggs. 

But the guilt ate at Hank like a quiet infection, chipping away until he knew a breaking point would be met. He tried going to AA, and getting help, but money was tight. And being self employed, with no one to look out for but himself until recently, Hank didn't have the insurance to cover most treatment. 

That night, as he barely held himself up on his seat with a gun to his head, he could see a switch in Connor. 

"We need to find a way to get you to stop," he frowned, rubbing the single bullet from the revolver between his fingers nervously. "It hurts to see you killing yourself from the inside out."

Hank had grumbled, mostly because of the raw, ache in his gut, but also because he knew what needed to be done. "Can you get rid of it? At least all the hard stuff?"

He watched as he sat at the kitchen table as Connor poured nearly $200 worth of liquor, some of which Hank had bought and he had never opened. Most of it was cheap stuff, and probably worked better as a drain cleaner than something that would make him feel better, anyway. 

A few cans of beer were left, to help with the withdrawal. Plus, Connor stayed home over the next week to make sure Hank stuck to his word. He was done with drinking; he needed to be. 

At the end of the week, they had plans to see some friends of Connor's. It was a birthday party at a bar, so they didn't stay long. But as they were leaving, Hank recognized a certain smell in the air while they walked neck to their car. 

"Damn, I feel like I'm walking back to my dorm after a midterms party. Can't believe that shit was still illegal then."

Connor seemed a little curious at that, "Did you ever try it anyway?"

"Pfft, of course!" Hank chuckled. "Most of my friends were arts majors, they had the best shit. One guy even made brownies in my arts history study group, that was a hell of a time." He smiled, then furrowed his brow. "Can't remember if I passed that class, to be honest. But man was it fun."

They both went quiet as they got into Hank's rumbling pickup truck, Connor had offered to drive since Hank was a little worn from the long day. "Would you ever try it again?"

At that, Hank half-shrugged. "Maybe? Even though it's legal, it's still damn hard to get. The nearest dispensary is a few counties over, which I always thought was bullshit anyway."

Connor hummed, in that way that Hank knew he was processing something in that wildly fancy computer brain of his. 

"Why?"

"Oh," Connor said, snapping out of his thoughts. "I guess I'm just curious if you would ever consider trying it again." 

“What, trade one vice for another?” Hank joked, but he could see the sincerity in the look Connor shot him.

"I think the effects could prove beneficial for you,” Connor said, offering a smirk. “Plus, there is data to suggest that THC may affect androids if it enters our thirium stream.”   
  
“Wait, like, you could get high with me?”

“It’s possible,” Connor shrugged. “I would be open to trying it, if you are.”

The suggestion stuck in Hank’s brain for a few weeks before he really did anything about it. And it came up again, strangely ironically, when he passed a tiny dispensary while taking a detour to one of his usual liquor stores.

He could at least browse, right?

There was an open parking spot on the street, which is steered into with his rattling truck, and opened the shop door which gave off a cheerful, electronic chime.   
  
“Welcome!” A voice called, and he noticed the cashier had an LED on her head, and was wearing a brightly colored dress to compliment the summer weather. “Can I help you find anything?”   
  
“Uhh, yeah actually,” he said, wandering toward the counter while he took in the wide variety of products. “Whattya got for someone who hasn’t had this shit in… thirty or so years?”   
  
“Oh wow! Back when it was still criminalized, huh?”   
  
He huffed out a laugh, “Yeah, was thinking of trying it again. My boyfriend thinks it may help with some stuff, and he wants to try it too.”   
  
“Sure thing!”

She began walking him around, explaining different methods of intake, and he settled on something a little old-fashioned: a simple, long wooden pipe, and a few little bags or weirdly named strains that she recommended. There was even a deal to get a free lighter, and Hank picked a simple floral one and earned himself a raised eyebrow from the employee.

“What about for your boyfriend?”   
  
“Oh, well he… is it true androids get something out of it?”   
  
“Ahhhh, I have something in the back for him,” she winked. She returned with a few packets of thirium, smaller than the ones Connor usually got. “These aren’t exactly FDA approved or anything, but myself and my partner have been experimenting and found that ingesting about a cup of this mix hits the spot. If he is worried about the contents, there’s an ingredients list on our website.”

“I’ll let him know,” Hank said, digging out his wallet. “Thank you.”

By the time he paid, got the paper bag of purchases into the passenger seat, he had completely forgotten about hitting the liquor store, and instead went straight home. The apartment above the flower shop was quiet and peaceful with Connor out the rest of the afternoon. Hank walked into, bag in tow, appreciating the sunlight streaming in and the thickness of the air with his multitude of plants around the living room. 

Sumo came over to greet him, tail thudding against the floor before rolling onto his back. After some belly rubs, and a refilled bowl of water, the St. Bernard snuggled comfortably on his favorite corner of the couch as Hank prepared some dinner and read through some of the literature that was included with all of the stuff he ordered. 

He sat down next to Sumo, his dinner plate of a sandwich and salad sitting on the coffee table as he pulled out the goodies from the bag. Then, he realized, maybe he needed a different plan. 

Dinner was put back in the fridge, and he filled a water bottle before going out to the small balcony by the kitchen with a packed pipe. His thumb flicked the lighter, the action unfamiliar after so many years, and let it ignite the ground greenery in the bowl. 

He shouldn’t have been surprised, but it took little more than a second of inhaling for his lungs to distinctly disagree with the idea. Coughing, he reached out for the water bottle, taking too big a gulp and felt the unpleasant burn of the water going down the wrong pipe.   
  
Ow. Just great.

He hit his chest with a closed fist, coughing hard enough to ease the discomfort, and then panted for a few seconds before rubbing his thumb between his eyebrows. So much for feeling better.

But one false start wasn’t going to keep him, so he took a smaller sip of water and tried again. He inhaled slower, sucking in some air from the side of his mouth as well so it wasn’t so thick with smoke as it traveled into his lungs. It helped a little, though his chest still constricted until he exhaled and gave a hard cough. He gave it a few more tries, cleared the burnt ash from the bowl, returned back inside, and-

Oh. 

It hadn’t really hit him fully, not yet anyway, but he felt something. Like his body was a bit heavier and his head was lighter, certainly different than when he drank. He wobbled to the kitchen, retrieving his dinner, and plopped back down onto the couch.

He didn’t realize how hungry he was until he took that first bite, having skipped lunch because of a rush of customers at the flower shop earlier before he closed. The toasted bread had lot some of its crunch, but he was suddenly glad he added so much spicy mustard now. It was awesome.

Hank mourned the sandwich after he finished it, and gulped the rest of the water bottle mindlessly like a thirsty plant. From his pocket, his phone buzzed with a text from Connor, and he realized he had somehow only been home for a half hour. That couldn’t be right?   
  
Connor’s message informed him that Connor was on his way home, with a little heart next to it. Hank replied back with a few little hearts and a kiss emoji, then leaned back into the couch. He would happily become one with the cushions. He dug his phone back out to play a shuffled playlist of some loud metal music, and contently mumbled along with the lyrics as his mind swam comfortably.

He was only startled out of it when he heard the front door open, and Connor announced his return as Sumo leapt off the couch to greet him. “Hi buddy! Where’s papa?”

“Papa can’t move right now. Please leave a message after the beep,” Hank called out, snorting to himself.

Connor walked over, kissing Hank’s forehead from behind the couch. “How was your day?”

“Shop was busy, but not bad.” He caught the sudden change in Connor’s LED of blue to yellow as he looked at the coffee table, and the pipe sitting on it. “Oh! Did you… did you try it?”

Hank sat up a bit, the world tilting with him, “Was gonna wait for you, but-” He raised his hand, “They had shit for you too! I put it in the fridge, if you wanna join me.”

“Well now I’m curious,” Connor giggled lightly, kissing Hank again but on his cheek and putting away his things. 

Meanwhile, Hank had found himself lost in the thought after he glimpsed his tricolor stromanthe. Various thoughts strung together, like why would a plan evolve to be that shade of pink at all, let alone the streaked patterns of green and a creamy-white that the leaves also bore. He had gotten the plant ages ago from someone who had tried to return it months after getting it as a gift. Some platinum blonde Karen with big sunglasses came huffing into the store, complaining that she didn’t care enough to maintain it, and asked for an exchange. Hank didn’t really deal with returns or exchanges, it couldn’t exactly process it since she wasn’t the one who purchased it, but she had made such a fuss that he offered her one of his nicer bouquets and brought the plant upstairs. It had withered, lost its colors, but bounced back after a few months of meticulous care. He did like the plant, but the attached memory to it was much more amusing years later.

“Hank?”   
  
He looked up to see Connor looking down at him, head tilted like a puppy and a glass of thirium in his hand. 

“Hey angel,” Hank replied, smiling. “Did you find it?”

“Yes, and I checked the information on the store’s website. I hope there are no side effects, but I trust that it’s safe since it was made by other androids.” He took a sip, and then scooted closer to Hank to snuggle up to him. “How’re you feeling?”   
  
“Pa-pa-pa-peach-y,” Hank cooed, peppering kisses across Connor’s face; he loved the way Connor giggled when he did that.

“Well that’s good to hear.”

“How about you? That shit working yet?”

“I’m… not sure.” Connor said, freezing for a moment as he checked his systems. “I don’t think I’ll feel the effects until I’ve finished ingesting the suggested amount.” 

He got Hank off the couch and wriggled him out of his work clothes, bringing him something lighter to change into. A soft t-shirt and some sleep shorts later, Hank was breaking out of his sleepy haze enough to think about doing another round. He appreciated when Connor replaced the music blaring from his phone with a jazz album; cool saxophones and lulling drums that fit snugly into the warm afternoon. 

The view from the cramped balcony had a decent enough view of the skyline, which almost looked strange without a layer of grey clouds above like a lot of the year. Hank scooped a little more of the ground leaves to settle on top of the little brass filter, and let the lighter flicker for a moment before letting the little flame touch the greenery. He still wasn’t quite used to it, still coughing the moment a gulp of smoke went down, but was saved when Connor slid the screen open to hand him some water. 

“Is there a reason you didn’t get an e-pen, or a different inhalation method?”

“Just figured I’d start with something I couldn’t fuck up as much,” Hank croaked between sips of water. “Are you asking why I didn’t get, like, a bong?”

Connor shrugged, “It is amusing to imagine. I believe one of the glassblowers you get your vases from makes them.”

“Oh my god,” Hank said, snorting a little, imagining asking for a matching set of a vase and water pipe. He paused, trying to sort out his thoughts, but he was interrupted by his own laughter when he tried to tell Connor.

Connor began to chuckle too, mostly at Hank’s outburst, and stepped completely through the doorway lovingly thumb away the tears of joy that escaped from the corners of Hank’s eyes. “It’s nice to see you smiling so much.”   
  
“Yeah yeah,” Hank stuck his tongue out. “I’m a giggly bitch with this shit.”

With a hum, Connor took one of Hank’s hands in his, nuzzling into his palm and kissing it. “If you don’t mind my saying, this is nicer than when you’re drunk.”

“Yeah, I like it too.”

He had completely forgotten about it, honestly, and it was kind of a nice change. Even if he did want a drink, which he kinda did a little, there wasn’t even anything around besides a growler of beer from the brewery down the street.    
  
“May I?” Connor asked, holding up the lighter.

Hank fumbled for the pipe, turning the contents of the bowl around a little, and waited for Connor to light it for him. He took a deep breath in, holding it steady, and then wagged his finger for Connor to lean in close. The smoke slowly escaped in the gaps between their lips, and Hank’s mouth watered a little at the familiar taste of Connor.

Hank never got tired of kissing him. The first time they did it was a jumpstart to his heart, like it had started beating again after years of dealing with depression meds that didn’t work and therapists that did nothing but drain his bank account. He had been so afraid to open himself up, to expose the gaping wound in his heart when Cole died and let the cracks be filled in with his dorky android’s love. 

And now, all this time later, he doesn’t know what would’ve happened if he didn’t.   
  
“You okay?” Connor asked, looking worriedly at him. “I can almost hear your brain thinking.”

“Just glad I got you, baby,” he replied, his voice a little husky. “I’m good.”

Connor rested his head on Hank’s shoulder, swaying them to and fro to the music, and gave a soft groan. “I think I’m… I think I’m feeling-” He leaned a little far, enough that Hank needed to catch him and keep him upright.

“Let’s go back inside.”

The second round had certainly made a difference to Hank, feeling the steady ascent, but he kept it together enough to help steady Connor as they retreated inside. Connor shivered slightly, stretching out his arms and extending his fingers as if testing that they were still functional.   
  
“Oh, wow…” He mumbled, standing in the center of the living room. Hank raised an eyebrow to him, letting him continue. “It feels different, but I can’t pinpoint how. There are error messages but they are greatly subdued, and my sensory data seems altered.” 

“In a good way?” Hank asked, trying not to worry unless he needed to.   
  
But Connor nodded, a faint smile growing. “I think so,” he said. “I think I… want to sit.”

Hank seated himself on the couch, patting a open space between his legs for Connor to lean back into him, and eventually Sumo crossed over to lay most of himself over Connor’s legs. “Ohhhhh-” Connor moaned softly, head rolling to the side. “Oh, this is nice.”

“Yeah?” Hank asked smugly, running his fingers through Connor’s hair. He got another little shiver in response, and smirked. “I know you’re sensitive, baby, but wow!”

Turning in slight embarrassment, Connor crossed his arms and squirmed in a way that Hank knew meant he was pouting cutely. And then he squirmed again, making a small, frustrating noise as he did. “I can’t help it,” he squeaked.

“Ohhhhh nooooo-” Hank teased, adjusting as Connor shooed Sumo off and flipped around in Hank’s arms. “Does my little deviant need some attention?”

Connor smushed his face into Hank’s chest, whining a little with need. “I wasn’t- I wasn’t expecting this kind of reaction.”

“Tell me what you need, honey, we got no where to be but here.”

Impatiently, Connor rose from where he had nestled himself near Hank and pulled him down to the hall to the bedroom to give them some privacy. The curtains were left open for the plants in there, but with the windows only slightly ajar the room was warm and humid, the air earthy from the symphony of plants spread around.

Maybe to some, it would seem like a problem. But Hank loved having so much greenery around him in his cozy little home above the shop; colorful leafy plants and tiny succulents alike were placed all over. Connor pulled hank down on top of him on the bed, kissing him languidly with the thick smell of life all around them. 

The room felt smaller, somehow, but maybe it was because Hank was so focused on Connor, on making him feel good. It was like the plants were encroaching, getting larger around them, or at least their presence was just so much more in his face than usual. It made Hank all the more eager to take Connor on a trip, one day, to get them out of the city, go hiking in a dense forest and relax on a quiet beach somewhere. 

He carries the image in his mind as he peels the clothes from Connor’s body, unwrapping him like a gift and worshipping the imperfections of his artificial body with kisses and gentle touches. His own fresh loungewear was removed immediately, with some insistence from Connor, before he flipped the android on to his stomach and stroked his backside. He felt Connor shudder, and when he spread those freckled ass cheeks he felt the air get punched from his lungs.

“Jesus Christ, baby,” Hank said, looking down. 

Connor’s model had a lubrication feature for his sexual functions, but there was so much slick gel that Hank wondered if he even had any left in the storage compartment.

“I-it’s malfunctioning, or something,” Connor breathed heavily, the hole puckering open and closed expectantly. “I’m not sure if it’s related to the altered thirium or n-not.”

Hank thought maybe he would have a hard time getting hard enough to fuck Connor the way he deserved right now; but that concern seemed to drop the moment he took himself in hand rubbing the growing chub against the hole. He heard Connor moan and felt more lubricant leak out and onto the head of his cock. “Oh, fuuuuuck baby.” 

He didn’t push inside, not yet, but he let his dick slide over the hole a few times before letting his weight settle on top of Connor, gently humping him as he smoothed his hands over Connor’s back. “Want some wire time?”

Connor swore sweetly, stretching his neck to either side and arching his shoulders until a seam of his chassis popped open just enough for Hank to slide it to the side and have access to the wires of Connor’s spine. They had tried a few different areas, different methods, but this was Connor’s favorite when Hank fucked him like this. They weren’t as small and delicate as the ones in Connor’s neck or wrist, but Hank still took a less-is-more approach so as not to overwhelm him. 

Gently, he let his fingertips drag over the cluster of wires and cords, revelling in the little gasp Connor gave from it. He didn’t want to rush, which sometimes made Connor overheat, and especially now he wanted to be loving and careful. It was a wonder he did this sober, because his fingers felt so large and clumsy as he separated a few strands from the rest to tug as he leaned back up. “This ok, Con?”   
  
Connor nodded, a little frantically, “Yeah, oh god, very yes!” His hands clenched around wrinkled folds of blanket, and he bucked his hips needingly.

As delicately as he could manage, Hank’s fingers rolled a few wires, twisting them gently, before rolling in the other direction. The action gave him a beautiful response as the lights in the internal circuits around the wires flared with light, matched by a delighted little groan beneath him. He matched the pace with his hips, punctuating every few thrusts with grunt.

“Hank, please-” Connor begged, pushing his hips up to meet Hank’s, trying desperately for more. 

Tutting lovingly, Hank leaned down to kiss his back, and let go of Connor’s wires for a moment to line himself up properly. “You sure you’re ready, pumpkin?”

Connor only whined, “Haaaaaaaaank!”

Thinking for a moment, Hank slid the back panel closed, and rolled Connor back around to see his face. His cheeks had the most incredible blue flush, eyes wet with tears from the sensitivity, but his lips curled so slightly when his dark, hooded eyes met Hank’s.

“Gorgeous, just look at you blossom for me,” Hank whispered huskily, lifting Connor’s hips to slide himself in. He could feel the damp spot on the bed, but couldn’t even begin to care as he pressed in slowly. He couldn’t believe how much tighter it felt than usual, pausing to catch his own breath and check Connor’s expression before moving again. He saw his devious boyfriend bite his lower lip, eyelids fluttering, before thrusting in deeper. They both groaned; Connor gasping as he threw his head backward.

Hank swore he felt fireworks bursting across his body, arms shaking as he held himself up to pull away just to inch back in deeper. “Oh shit, babe, you feel good.” The compliment made Connor grin bashfully, turning his head to the side that only made his cute little dimple more presented. “You good?” He felt Connor squeeze around him, almost doubling over from it.

He started at a lazy pace, just soaking in the warmth and goodness of it all. The music was still playing from the other room, just loud enough for the tune to get stuck in his head. All of his senses seemed to vibrate with it, and he basked in it as he plowed in hard and steady.The familiar coil in his stomach grew faster than he had expected, so he slowed a little until Connor tried bucking his hips into him.   
  


“Fuck- baby, I’m not gonna last much more like this,” he explained, panting a little.   
  
Connor shifted closer to the edge of the bed, raising his legs a little more, “Please, Hank!”

The heat in his gut burst, ramming himself into Connor frantically as he came hard to the sounds of Connor’s curse-filled pleas to fill him. His thoughts swam through the thickness of the oncoming exhaustion, breaths coming out hot and fast, but the first thing that came from his mouth was a small, inexplicable laugh. He didn’t know why, but as he collapsed beside Connor on the bed, the smile lingered and he basked in the drowsy post-orgasm relief.

After a minute or so, he felt Connor move, his weight settle gently on Hank’s side and an arm wrapping lovingly around his middle. “Hmmm, how do you feel, honeybear?”

“Good,” Hank sighed, squeezing his eyes shut before squinting them open. “Better, I think.”

“Well, that’s good,” Connor replied, placing a kiss on his cheek. “Want some water?”   
  
Turning, Hank brings Connor into his arms so they are laying face to face. “In a bit… I just wanna hold you for now.”

The record had long since ended; the entire home peaceful and quiet as night crept in closer, the bedroom a little darker than it had been earlier. 

Nuzzling close, Hank announced “This shit ain’t bad.”

  
“Oh no?” 

“Yeah,” he shifted enough to look at Connor in the eyes earnestly. “I don’t think I’ll be this horny every time, but, sure as fuck beats how I usually feel.”   
  
“Mmmmm,” Connor affirmed, eyes falling to study the details of Hank’s face. “I’m really glad to hear it, Hank. We’ll take it slow.”

“Yeah, yeah that’s a good idea.” Out of nowhere, a yawn escaped him. “I may need a little nap after that, this is way too fucking comfy.”

“I’ll be right here with you,” Connor grinned. “Oh, want me to get Sumo?”

“Heh, maybe in a bit. Wanna hold you a bit longer.” Which he did, he held to Connor a little tighter, rubbing circles into his back. “Just… love you a lot. Thought I should remind you again.”

Connor exhaled, relaxing into Hank’s arms little by little. “I love you, too.” 


End file.
